


go(gone)

by somerandomonline



Series: is/was [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Attempt at Humor, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), F/M, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, I'm so tired, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Character Death, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Swearing, Trichotillomania, Violence, hair pulling (not sexy), implied panic attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:15:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22980826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somerandomonline/pseuds/somerandomonline
Summary: When Zira vanishes, Crowley goes to find him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: is/was [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1641955
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for mentioned trichotillomania(it's a bitch and a half). I'm so tired you guys. So, these are my first OCs and my first fic with action/fighting, so sorry if it sucks. After this, there will probably only be one more story in this series. LMK what you think and thanks for reading

The one good thing that came out of the ‘name your kid like you’re famous’ trend was that Lyric’s own name got less attention. It didn’t save her from being kidnapped, though.

“Okay, what the fuck. Ander, this isn’t fun-shit” Lyric swore as the neon smell of divinity and cloying scent of hell filled the room she was held in. 

“Hey, is this an... abandoned office building? If anyone tried to summon a demon and missed, people do this shit in the woods or abandoned caves for a reason. The atmosphere has to be scary and mysterious, not just depressing with a dash of misery induced fear”. Lyric doubted that this was a summoning, though - the spells chaining her were too advanced for that to be likely. 

“For the love of God, do you ever shut up?” a vaguely familiar voice said. A tall man in a grey suit had spoken, walking into the room with a smaller man, dressed in a t-shirt and khaki shorts.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure we’ve met at least once, so this is awkward, but who are you? Well, I know you, Praxis, but not the angel. Also, is there a hair tie I can borrow?” Lyric shook her dark hair out of her eyes, already regretting not putting it up. Her query was met with a roll of Praxis’ eyes and a blank stare from the angel.

“You don’t recognize me?” the angel asked, offended.

“Told you Gabe” Praxis commented.

“Oh! You’re Glaucon!” Lyric responded.

“...No. I’m the Archangel Gabriel”.

“I thought Gabriel was the guy in Plato’s Republic”.

“Jesus Christ, both of you. Glaucon is the guy in Republic, and I am really regretting associating with the both of you. Gabe, have you completed the spell yet?”

“Don’t call me Gabe or blaspheme, demon. And the spell will go into effect any moment now”.

“That’s cool, but can I go now?” Lyric asked.

“Not part of the deal, sweetheart. I help Praxis kill you in return for his help. Although, given he apparently can’t kill you of all beings, I’m wondering how much I really need him” Gabriel’s jaw twitched slightly, his face otherwise blank.

“Damn. Can you please give me a hair tie? It’s also called a ponytail, or hair elastic, if that clears anything up”.

“Why She made you an angel of knowledge is beyond me”.

“God’s an idiot, Gabe” Praxis replied. Lyric smelled divinity as Gabriel prepared a spell, but Praxis rolled his eyes, and the spell was abruptly snuffed out.

For real though-” Lyric stated, before being interrupted by Praxis snapping at her.

“You are not getting a fucking ponytail!”

“Wow, rude. So, what am I doing here, given that one of you hates me and the other is well on the way to doing that very thing? Also, who’s the angel again?”

“Okay, what makes me so much less memorable than the demon? I was your direct superior!” Gabriel snapped. 

“No, Glucose, that was Uriel. Anyway, I remember you, but not your name. Anyway, Praxis dislikes me for events that weren’t my fault”. Lyric knew Ander was probably looking for her about now, so the sooner she could go, the better for all involved. 

“And, there’s the spell. The traitor walked right into it. You know, Lyric, you should be grateful. We’ll let you see your friend one last time before you all die”. Gabriel gave a smarmy smile before walking outside. Praxis followed, but he took a second to flip Lyric off as he went. The moment they left, she took a close look at the glyphs binding her. They were mostly airtight, but there was a mistake somewhere, and she’d find it eventually. 

Crowley woke up as a snake, cold and miserable. He transformed back into a human, walking halfway toward their shared bedroom before realizing he couldn’t feel Aziraphale in the shop. He couldn’t feel any recent remnants of Aziraphale’s magic either, nothing newer than a day or two. 

“Angel, you home?” No reply, not that he expected one. Crowley walked into the kitchen, his heat sinking when he saw Aziraphale’s mug of tea from before untouched on the counter. Fuck. His angel had left, hadn’t he? He’d finally driven him away. Unbidden, the conversation the night after the world almost ended rose to his mind.

Love you angel.

Oh, shit. I love you too, more than anything, but you should probably nip that in the bud.

As much as Aziraphale loved him, it wasn’t enough to put up with him forever. He should have known. Aziraphale had told him that night. Normally, in this situation, Crowley would self destruct until he felt better, but Aziraphale hadn’t been back in over two days. And after all this time, he was damn sure owed an in-person breakup. Crowley got into the Bentley and started to drive.

Lyric was dozing when she heard Gabriel and Praxis come back in, though the former’s steps were slightly heavier than usual. Probably the friend Glycogen had mentioned, but who pissed him off that much? They walked inside the room where she was bound, dropping a familiar spirit in an unfamiliar body in a binding circle next to hers.

“Lyric?” 

“Aziraphale?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The adventure/confusion continues

Crowley fought back panic as he continued searching for Aziraphale. It had been twelve hours since he left the shop, and his angel had apparently disappeared off the face of the earth. As he searched, scouring England for a trace of his angel’s aura, he missed the other occult presence until it was almost on top of him. It was a demon, but not one he recognized. He turned the Bently around, heading for the new presence. Almost there, he thought. Don’t give up now, angel. 

He traced the presence to a normal, quaint looking house on the edge of town. Crowley transformed into a small snake, slipping underneath the door frame. In the living room, an inactive summoning circle and the beginnings of a circle of protection were sketched out. The demon he had sensed was in the back room, flipping through a book that looked as old as he was. The demon had dark hair and a lengthy figure, with eyes that seemed slightly too dark to be human. 

“Where’s Aziraphale?” Crowley hissed, returning to his human form.

“Where’s Lyric?” the demon asked, jumping to his feet.

“Tell me where my angel is and maybe I’ll tell you”. Crowley had no idea who ‘Lyric’ was, but he didn’t have any more promising options. The demon closed the book, fists clenching. 

“I don’t know who Aziraphale is, but if you took Lirael, you’ll beg for holy water”.

“Oh, I doubt that”. And the demon lunged.

“Aziraphale! How’d you end up here?” Lyric asked.

“How-how are you here?” Aziraphale asked. He had just been out, planning to get some coffee for Crowley and tea for himself at a specialty store when he felt a rush of magic and woke up while being carried into a binding circle. It had been a century since he last saw Lyric, and longer since they’d actually spoken. She didn’t even work for Gabriel, never had.

“Praxis - that’s the demon - and Gabriel grabbed me about three and a half days ago. Stuck me in this circle, won’t tell me shit, and won’t even give me a fucking ponytail. Well, since you’re here, you must be the traitor Gaudy mentioned, so what’s that about?”

“You didn’t know?” Aziraphale asked, shocked. “No one told you?”

“No one tells me shit, apparently. What happened?” Aziraphale told her about the Apocalypse and their attempted executions, leaving out the more sensitive details. 

“Well, I’m happy you pissed them off. So, have any brilliant insights as to how we should get out of this?”

“Not at the moment. I seem to be securely bound, and if you could escape, you wouldn’t be here”.

“Damn. They could have at least made the circles bigger, or given us a book, or a fucking ponytail. Sorry, my hair has been in my face for three days, and the trichotillomania is real”. 

Aziraphale looked at Lyric more closely. Her corporation had dark skin, brown eyes, and curly hair that was thinner in some places than others. 

“I apologize, Lyric. I should have tried to find you earlier, at least warn you about the apocalypse. If it had happened, would you have returned to heaven?”. Just before World War One, Death had begun to be overwhelmed by the sheer volume of humans, and had asked both sides for help. Multiple angels and demons, including Lyric, had been bound to earth to help ferry souls across.

“I think it would have hurt us, Aziraphale. I am more connected to earth than I am to Her, and I’d guess it’s the same for the others. We physically can’t enter heaven, so there would be nowhere for us to go”.

“And they never told any of you. Those bad - bad angels. Oh, when we get out of here, I absolutely must show you my book-”. Aziraphale was cut off as a demon appeared in the room they were in, wearing a Hawiian shirt, of all things.

“Hello, Aziraphale '' the demon said before stepping inside of Lyric’s binding circle. Lyric’s eyes widened in fear just before the first blow landed. 

Crowley barely dodged the first attack, taking a nasty hit on his shoulder during the second. He managed to bite his attacker’s arm, but Crowley wasn’t built for fighting. In a few moments, he was pinned with an arm behind his back. Note to self - get better at fighting, Crowley thought to himself. 

“Tell. Me. Where. My. Friend. Is” the other demon snarled.

“I’m trying to find my angel, I don’t fucking care about your shit! Let go of me!”

“Well, I’m trying to - wait, we’re both looking for angels, I doubt that’s a coincidence. If I let go of you, can we talk normally?” Crowley blinked.

“Uh, sure”. The other demon released him, looking not the least bit disheveled from their fight. Crowley smoothed the wrinkles out of his suit, thanking someone that there weren’t any tears. 

“I’m Ander”

“Crowley”

“So, why are you in my house?”

“This is your - nevermind. I sensed your spell, which could really use some work. So, exactly who are you looking for?”.

“I’m looking for Lyric, an angel. We’ve known each other for a while”. Crowley grinned slightly at that.

“Well, I guess Aziraphale and I weren’t the only ones fraternizing. So, did this Lyric piss anyone off recently?”

“No one recently, there’s one guy with a grudge, but we hid from him pretty well, and this isn’t Praxis’ style. Did you or Aziraphale step on any toes?”

“Only everyone’s”

“Yeah, I’m way out of the loop. No one from hell has talked to me since about 1750. What happened?”.

Crowley explained the almost apocalypse and their attempted executions. Partway through his explanations, Ander began to gather the candles and chalk that had been knocked over during their fight. Once Crowley finished, he stood up, wondering what his next step was.

“Hey, I’m trying to use a locator spell on Lyric, but I can’t do it alone. And I’m sure she and your angel are close to each other. Can you help?” Ander asked. Crowley walked over to the circle, following Ander’s directions. With a final flash of light, a pinprick of light appeared on the map they were using.

“Fairfax, Virginia? What the fuck is there?” Crowley asked.

“Dunno, but I don’t have any other ideas, and given how long you’ve been looking, I don’t think they’re in England. So, unless you have any better ideas…”

“Bless it. So, will we be flying or what? Because I only do first class.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions are answered as things escalate

Aziraphale’s voice was hoarse from screaming.

“Stop! Let go of her, you wretched thing! Stop!” He banged futilely on the barrier of the circle, but it was as if he didn’t exist. All Praxis did was keep hitting Lyric. When Gabriel appeared, Praxis didn’t seem to notice until Gabriel stepped inside the circle and pulled him off her. Silver and red blood pooled on the floor - Praxis had attacked not just her human body, but her true form.

“Please” Aziraphale said, not knowing who he was talking to. Gabriel smirked, but miracled a piece of chalk into his hand. 

“Praxis, keep the traitor still”

“You mean to have him comfort her?”

“Listen to reason, Praxis”. Aziraphale pleaded. “Is this how you want to kill her? She isn’t even conscious”. He didn’t think his pleas had worked, but Aziraphale felt the paralysis spell come into effect, just long enough for Gabriel to connect the two circles. Aziraphale ran to his friend, trying to make her comfortable. The damage was severe, and Aziraphale felt himself begin to drift. No, not now. He bit his lip to center himself, and tried his best to make Lyric comfortable. All he could do was try and splint the worst breaks with his clothing - this wasn’t the first time he’d had to use his clothes as a makeshift first aid kit - and pray. 

Eventually, Lyric began to stir, trying to open her eyes.

“Shh, dear, don’t move. You’ve been hurt, but you’ll be okay soon”. 

“Oh, that isn’t true, Aziraphale” Gabriel had walked in, carrying a metal band that, Aziraphale realized with fear, was big enough to wrap around his skull. He was hit with the paralysis spell again, and Gabriel put the band around Aziraphale’s forehead. 

Aziraphale cried. He cried for a long time. 

“Fucking Fairfax. Why the hell would they be here?” Crowley mused aloud, not for the first time.

“Lyric’s smart: ask her. Wait, I can feel her! It’s faint but around here”.

“I can’t feel anything”

“Look for certainty. What does Aziraphale’s magic feel like?”

“Fuck if I can describe it, but … it’s a bell, almost. Or sensation - like sweetness and colors and all”. Crowley smiled slightly at the thought of his angel. Aziraphale’s magic was almost as hedonistic as he was. 

“Well, Lyric’s magic is coming from that way” Ander said, pointing towards a city. 

“Oh, shit” Crowley swore. “That’s time manipulation magic”. Time manipulation magic was easy to recognize if you knew what you were looking for, but not many beings knew much about it, nevermind casting it efficiently. This was someone who was either very powerful or very smart, which didn’t narrow it down much. 

“So, it’s probably been longer for them than it has been for us, since there’s not many reasons to do the inverse. Probably because they knew we’d look for them.” Ander speculated

“Come on, we have angels to find, and different ones to kill”.

Aziraphale landed on what remained of the street, looking around in confusion. There were what looked like shadows on the ground, but no people were there to cast them. There weren’t any people in a half mile radius, just rubble. 

Aziraphale held the woman’s hand, praying softly.

Aziraphale walked into the hospital, healing anyone who wasn’t too far gone. He had to decide between healing one person with cancer, two with HIV, and three who had been shot. Either way, he would choose wrong.

Aziraphale dropped the scroll he was carrying. The streets were empty, the heads of the traitors on pikes in front of Alulim’s palace. 

“Aziraphale, it’s not real. You’re with me, it’s not real…”

_“What do you think of the changes, Ioael?” Israfel thought. Ioael’s presence, intertwined with his own, contemplated._

_“Well, being ‘physical’ sounds overwhelming. ‘Sensations’ sound interesting, and there will be so much more to learn! But, think about it. When we become physical, we’ll be confined to bodies, and we won’t be able to feel each other”. Shock, fear, and confusion reverberated throughout the host._

_“Calm down. We have to trust in Her, have faith” Gladkiel thought._

_“Do we? She would disconnect us from each other, all that we are, and even have us change our names. How, how can this happen?” Raziel thought._

_“We don’t have to accept this” Lael thought. This sent the host into a flurry; God was Above All, but Lael was well respected, so his idea could have merit. They had never had to bluntly reject an idea from the host, but this was concerning. Questioning wasn’t forbidden, but questioning Her seriously was unheard of._

_“She won’t disconnect us. Even if we do seperate, there will be a way to communicate” Israfel thought, though the idea of being disconnected in any way filled him, and the rest of the Host, with what they would later know as terror._

_“No. This cannot happen. We will not be disconnected in any way, especially for ‘physicality’. What need do we have of it?” Lael thought. The discussion devolved into chaos, with the Host arguing furiously amongst themselves._

_“Not every change has been bad. Gender was okay”._

_“Gender changed very little, and this would change everything”._

_“Please, stop arguing. I don’t think She’ll separate us, not completely” Ioael thought._

_“But… what if she does?” Israfel thought._

_“This will not stand. We will ensure this does not come to pass, no matter the cost.” Lael thought, much of the host agreeing with him. There was a spike of what would come to be known as pain, and Israfel felt his connection to the Host vanish._

_“No” he thought, but no one could hear him._

_“Ioael! Gladkiel! Rehuel!”._

_“Anyone…”_

“Take that off now, Gabriel!” Lyric snapped. “He is in pain!”.

“Why do you think I put it on?” Gabriel replied, with what he probably thought was a subtle smirk.

“That’s for your benefit too. What were the exact words Praxis used when he offered his help?”

“What makes you think he approached me?”

“Becasue you’re too fucking prejudiced and incompetent to even think of working with a demon directly. Michael arranged the executions, everyone knows that. Tell me, when Praxis was briefing you, did he ever mention my name? I know I never told you.” Lyric gave Gabriel a shrug.

“Aziraphale is kind, Praxis is determined, and I am certain. I don’t have scales, or horns, or technicolor eyes, but everyone knows who, and sometimes where, I am. Your circle didn’t block that, Gladkiel. If you and Praxis want to have a hope of survival, let us out”. It was one of her better speeches, not that Gabriel seemed fazed. Praxis walked in, clapping slowly. 

“Oh, Lyric. You won’t be here long enough for rescue to come”. Lyric moved towards Aziraphale, trying to get the headband off. The headband did come off, but the spell was still in effect, with Praxis approaching the circle. I’m sorry Israfel, she thought. Take care of Ander for me.

“Not going to beg, Lyric?” Praxis asked. Behind her, Aziraphale was stirring slightly, opening his eyes and looking around.

“I am sorry about Andrew, but I had no choice” Lyric said. Praxis snarled at the mention of his son, lunging at her. She tried to get him off, but he pinned her in moments. 

“Ioael!” Aziraphale rushed at Praxis, catching him off guard. They fought, Lyric desperately looking for a makeshift weapon, when Praxis threw Aziraphale out of the circle. Aziraphale tried to summon his sword, but Gabriel attacked him and tossed him back into the circle before he could. Praxis got up and summoned a knife, walking towards her and pinning Aziraphale on the ground with a spell. 

“Take care of Ander for me” Lyric said, just before Praxis slit her throat with a blade forged in hellfire. 

“Ander! I felt Aziraphale! He’s over here!” Crowley ran to where he had sensed his angel, not checking if the other demon was following him. Crowley stopped at the building it had originated from, letting his fangs extend and hands become slightly clawed. Whoever had taken his angel would pay. An unfamiliar demon walked out of the building in a blood stained blue hawiian shirt, and swore when he saw Crowley.

“Gabe, we got company!” Ander ran past Crowley, so fast that he was a blur, and tackled Praxis. Ander had gotten a dagger from somewhere, and for all of Praxis’ skill, he was no match for Ander. Crowley ran past them into the building, following the scent of blood. He found his angel, bruised, and bloody, but alive in what had been a conference room, crouched over another person.

“Aziraphale!” 

“Crowley! Here, she needs help!” Aziraphale said, pushing the woman towards him.

“You take her and go, I’ll take care of-”

“Get down!” Aziraphale yanked Crowley down as a knife flew over his head and embedded itself into the wall. Crowley, seeing red, lunged at Gabriel, biting him before being thrown to the ground. Ander ran in, and after seeing the woman on the floor, attacked Gabriel, dislocating one of his wings before the Archangel threw him off. Crowley attacked again, narrowly avoiding being stabbed. Gabriel turned his attention to Ander, but Aziraphale grabbed him from behind, holding the dagger Gabriel had thrown at Crowley.

“You deserve this” Aziraphale slit Gabriel’s throat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale - how they get out of it

Crowley teleported the four of them to the bookshop, stumbling at how much it took out of him. Aziraphale and Lyric appeared next to each other, despite the fact they hadn’t been standing next to each other when they left. By some miracle, Ander and Aziraphale had been able to heal her enough so that while she wasn’t actively dying, she wasn’t going to be contributing much to the conversation.

“Okay, it was nice meeting you two, but if you could go, it’d be great” Crowley said. Ander nodded, wrapping an arm around Lyric before they vanished, presumably to the house where Crowley had first met Ander. 

“That was incredibly unpleasant” Aziraphale muttered, sitting on the couch behind him. 

“I’d imagine” Crowley replied, sitting next to him. “Do you need anything, angel?” Aziraphale felt his eyes tear up, and he forced them back. I want to go home, he thought. But home wasn’t there anymore. When he didn’t say anything, Crowley grabbed his hand, standing up. 

“Come on, Angel, let’s get you cleaned up. Think of it as me paying you back for the apocalypse”. It took Aziraphale a moment to remember what Crowley was talking about, and he nodded jerkily. Crowley wiped Aziraphale’s face and hands off before making the executive decision to just miracle him clean, vision blurring with the effort. 

“Didn’t have to” Aziraphale muttered.

“No worries, love”. They went into the bedroom, holding hands the whole way. They changed into pajamas, though Aziraphale started to drift partway through and Crowley had to snap him out of it. Crowley turned into a snake and wrapped himself around Aziraphale, guarding his angel while he slept. 

Aziraphale woke up feeling just as drained as he had been when he went to sleep. Crowley, who had turned into a snake and curled up on his chest, gave Aziraphale an inquiring hiss. Aziraphale thought for a second and pulled the blanket over his head, closing his eyes again. Crowley slithered off his chest and transformed back into a human.

“Angel, you there?”

“Unfortunately” 

“Okay. So, physically, are you okay?”

“Yes. Can we do this later?” Crowley pulled Aziraphale closer to him.

“Yeah. I think you need more sleep”. Aziraphale didn’t feel like sleeping, but it was better than being awake, so he closed his eyes.

Crowley woke to Aziraphale’s voice and the smell of coffee. Aziraphale was in the doorway to the bedroom, holding a cup of tea for himself and coffee for Crowley.

“Hello, heart. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes. Thanks for the coffee. Don’t leave again”. Crowley hadn’t planned on the last part, and winced, taking a sip of coffee to keep from saying anything else stupid. 

“Oh, dear heart. Trust me when I say I do not plan on leaving you again. The last time was, as you would say, absolute crap”. Aziraphale smiled sadly, sitting next to Crowley. 

“I wouldn’t have said crap, angel. And if you ever pull anything like this again, I will kick your celestial ass from one side of the earth to the other and back again” Crowley tightened his grip on the coffee mug, hoping Aziraphale wouldn’t see him breathing faster. Shitshitshit not now. Aziraphale had his own problems, he didn’t need Crowley’s.  
“Yeah, angel, I have to go water the plants. Back soon”. Crowley jumped up, snapping his suit on and getting in the Bentley while Aziraphale watched in confusion. He made it halfway to his flat before pulling over and screaming. 

It took Crowley the better part of the day until he was composed enough to go back to the bookshop, sauntering in with a forced smile. Aziraphale took one look at Crowley and embraced him with hands that were shaking only slightly.

“Crowley, heart, look at me. We’ll be okay. You are not the exception to the rule of people getting their happy endings. We’ll be okay, love”.

Crowley nodded, trying to believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale's line at the end is from A softer sea #319. If you need inspiration, check them out.  
> https://asoftersea.tumblr.com/post/188591100360/319-come-share-these-pancakes-with-me
> 
> Thanks for reading. LMK what you think. I'm thinking there will be one more in this series, maybe some other GO stuff, and I am working on some original work. Also, you should all check out a softer world and a softer sea.


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